loud as hope

the sun looms like a threat. the pavement hums. A boy and girl riding bicycles. the boy is me, peddling toward an ice-cream truck with a pocket full of change. silver half dollars - birthday money. the girl pumps her skinny legs. bright pink streamers fall like a horses mane from her handlebar grips. She smiles her shiny teeth at me and i already imagine her unwrapping a red white and blue rocket pop. i can taste it. i can feel it melting sticky down our fingers. we will compare red tongues and blue lips.

her hair sticks to her face like little black snakes. sweat on the back of my neck makes my skin prickly. there is a dull moan of ice cream truck motor. a slightly perverted and out of tune Pop Goes the Weasel fights it's way to play through the thick hot air.

I don't remember the car or her yelling for me to watch out or stop or why aren't you stopping?. they warn you, there are warning signs. but, i never stop. I won't stop. I can't stop. little cartoon hearts flutter out of my chest when i wasn't looking. I never saw the car.

the head over heel feeling and the glimpse of sunlight and braids. sunshine and braids. i tumble for what seems like a life time. everything is slow motion. the change falling from my pocket hitting the asphalt and rolling with the grace only money can find. my bike over there, me over here. lying on my back more serene than Buddha on xanax.

people come from out of their houses i think. the girl runs over to me. she is smiles and sunshine. she is braids and glasses. are you dead? she asks. are you over the rainbow? she asks. say hi to the tin man, say hi to the scarecrow. she leans into my face and kisses me. i guess maybe i had died. but i remember getting up and shaking myself off. someone telling me i should look where im going next time, to be more careful then handing me change and dollar bills. "for your bike"

maybe, i thought. maybe i did die. maybe everything after that and since and now - is a dream.
the girl, she was glad i was okay. that i wasn't dead. she stuck out a bright red tongue and declared herself the winner.


It's resistance failing and the words feel nice inside my head. your name feels nice inside my head. I have yet to kick the habit of you. So, could you ever come slip back under me? If you ever made it easy. I would. I know you're there. I haven't killed the habit and this has become my only fix. my love is a ghost that fits my skin. there are remnants still in my bloodstream. it's enough and never enough.

rustle and sigh and dead leaves falling

The sweetest decline is always voluntary. I remember how she gave me the keys and let me drive. how she put her arms around me like they belonged there. I kissed her hard and deep. drunk on her youth, sick with our disaster.
In case we don't make it back. i say
Earlier on the phone she asked me, Do you remember how to get here?
me with the knife, me with the gun, me who drives miles and miles, to her anxiously awaiting. hell fast and filled with random thoughts. her heart, her body, now the keys,
that's trust baby. with bruised lips we now depart.

skin the color of snow, her hair- darkness, sunshine, ginger, apples- I just wanted eat her cold white skin.

I pull over under a lemon tree or orange tree. something citrusy and sweet. a rest stop with vending machines and clean rest-rooms. fat squirrels beg near a garbage can. 18 wheeled truck noise from the highway. somewhere train tracks and power lines run parallel. I just assume.

At the car, we're both back from peeing.
how was it?, did it burn?, If it did, I'm sorry.
she's funny too. i like that.
No, I could hardly keep from moaning. it was almost orgasmic. do girls get like that?. does peeing feel that good for girls?

No. I'm orgasmic for some foods. and sex. mostly anal. and older guys.
more jokes, more good times, more somethings to remembers.

she's done being witty or bratty or both.
she climbs over top of me.
okay, baby, you drive for awhile.


random, grasshopper thoughts. honey and sliced orange. come stuck from the tip of my dick to the inside my underwear, it rips away with a slight move. pain, but not so bad that it's almost erotic. I drifted. hardly aware she was in the passengers seat. legs slightly parted, crumpled skirt, eyes closed. I was inside her not just .... how long ago?. mile markers have past by, my foot to heavy. intoxicated. sex dizzy, road dizzy, brain tumor. something.
I play god behind the wheel, i play a detective on t.v. In real life, i think she just loves me.
Do you remember how to get here?
right before i came, she called me daddy. petrol and go- go juice. motel neon and greasy spoon diners. There are parts of me still inside her.

Oh, it's the little things you miss

Tell me a story:

when i was little i had a teddy bear named Cocoa, and once, I forgot him in a motel room. I'm only guessing because it's been such a long time, but i think it was in North Carolina. I remember passing lots of Christmas trees. I rolled down my window so i could smell them. They weren't in vacant lots for sale, like at home, but just growing on the sides of the road and in the mountains.

it was the holidays and we were on our way to visit my aunt. I didn't notice he was missing until hours after we left the motel, and when i did i was instantly heartbroken. how could i have forgotten my best friend in the entire wide world?. I instantly shifted blame to my parents...how could you let me leave him?
I must have been in such a rush. there was a Waffle House right in front of the motel and my mother had promised we'd eat breakfast there before we headed out. we never went out to eat. my mom usually packed a cooler with milk and drinks and brought cereal along with plastic spoons. and you have to understand my love for waffles and chocolate milk.
I must have left poor Cocoa in bed, under the mounds of covers.

We have to go back!!! we have to get Cocoa! my Dad squealed the brakes and nearly drove us off the mountain. He must have sensed the devastation in my voice because we got off at the next exit to call the motel. My mom asked if they had found a bear. No, a teddy bear. I heard her say. Yes, i know you have real bears in North Carolina but this is my sons teddy bear. I caught my father rolling his eyes at this. Did they thrash it or not? we gotta get a move on.

A few minutes later the lady on the phone said they had indeed found Cocoa. He was safe and they would mail it out right away and my mom gave them my aunt's address.

When Cocoa arrived at my aunt's, I opened the box and began to apologized over and over. He just started telling me about his trip. How it was bumpy like a roller coaster and only a little hot inside the box. cozy was the word he used and much needed sleep. He said the motel room wasn't so bad and the cleaning lady was pretty and nice and sang him songs in Spanish. She gave him a bath too and indeed Cocoa smelled clean like dryer sheets and his fur was bright and fluffy.

he made the journey back to me seem fun and exciting not scary like i knew it probably was. I promised to never leave him behind again, that i would be careful with the people and things i cared about. but, he was a bear and even though the lesson i learned wasn't lost on him, he wanted to know how the waffles were and was it the bestest chocolate milk i had ever tasted in my entire life?

strings and horns

Hummingbird

Suppose i say summer,
write the word "hummingbird,"
put it in an envelope,
take it down the hill
to the box. When you open
my letter you will recall
those days and how much,
just how much, i love you.

- Raymond Carver